


A Human Heart Beats Within

by CommonNonsense



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, werewolf!McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7663963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo finds out what it's like to be on the other end of the werewolf's vicious instincts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Human Heart Beats Within

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from Tumblr from an anon who wanted fic based on this piece of art by SpartaDog: http://spartadog.tumblr.com/image/148177069445
> 
> I'm a sucker for a good werewolf and some old-fashioned angst, let me tell you.

When he fully turned, McCree’s wolf form was a marvel. Svelte muscle under russet fur, a monstrous, powerful body, jaws that could pick up a man and snap him in half--it was no wonder that Talon wanted its old experiment back. Hanzo had only ever seen the wolf in all its glory a scant handful of times before, but each time had left him in awe. 

He had never fully appreciated just how terrifying it was until this moment. 

A Talon task force had come, headed by a woman in a prim white coat and outfitted with weapons. They wanted McCree back, the woman had said. He was their prize and he wouldn’t be able to hide behind Overwatch again. 

There had been a phrase, a trigger--Hanzo hadn’t heard what it was, but McCree had. It was the fastest that Hanzo had ever seen McCree turn, and never had he seen him so vicious. The agents were unprepared as the wolf rent them to pieces with wicked claws before Hanzo could so much as aim an arrow--and then it turned on him. 

McCree knocked Hanzo aside with a massive paw. Hanzo hit the ground hard and skid, the rocky ground tearing at his exposed shoulder. The wolf was on him in an instant, bounding across the distance and towering over him before he could stand. Despite the fact that McCree’s prosthesis was gone, fallen off and abandoned in the shreds of his clothing twenty feet away, he was unhindered.    


“McCree,” Hanzo breathed. Grief and terror both seized his chest as the wolf’s hot, sour breath gusted over his face. There was no recognition in the beast’s eyes--no longer the soft brown Hanzo knew, but a flinty, emotionless gold. “McCree, it is me, I am not--”  


The wolf snapped and Hanzo barely got his hands up in time, holding back the gleaming jaws with a hand on top and bottom, fingers between elongated teeth. The wolf snarled and lunged, forepaw scrabbling at the dirt. Hanzo’s arms screamed with the effort of holding back certain death.

“McCree!” Hanzo cried. The wolf lashed its tail, lips curled in anger “McCree, the agents are dead! You are safe! I am not your enemy!”

McCree shoved again and Hanzo’s arms nearly buckled. “Jesse, please,” he murmured, all but begging for even a shred of the human soul trapped in the beast’s body. “I will not harm you.” The wolf abruptly stopped fighting, gaze locked with Hanzo’s. Hanzo swallowed hard. “It’s me. Please.”

The wolf was still. Hanzo dared not move for fear of invoking the beast’s wrath again. A long, silent minute passed before Hanzo heard a soft whine from the wolf’s throat. 

“Hhhhan . . . ?” he whispered, a ragged and thready sound but undeniably human.

“Yes,” Hanzo replied, scarcely daring to breathe. “Yes, Jesse.”

The wolf whined again, pawing at the dirt in distress. He lifted his head, closing his lips over his teeth. Hanzo sat up and followed, seizing handfuls of the wolf’s shaggy mane. 

“I am here,” he whispered. McCree’s eyes tracked him now, filled with sorrow and shame. “I am here, and you are safe.” He rested his brow against the wolf’s, waiting, praying that McCree had truly come back to him.

After a long minute, he heard it: the faint grinding and popping of bones shifting. The fur under his hands started to recede, becoming shorter and finer, revealing tan skin underneath. He sat back as the wolf shifted, grotesquely and slowly twisting back into a humanoid form and, eventually, a recognizable figure. Hanzo’s heart pounded against his ribs as he waited, fists tight in his lap to control the urge just to reach out.

McCree lifted his head. His eyes were his again, a soft warm brown, the skin beneath sagging and purple with exhaustion. Nude and missing his prosthetic arm, he cuts a sad, pathetic silhouette. Hanzo had never seen anything more wonderful.

“Hanzo,” McCree whispered roughly. “Jesus, Hanzo, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Hanzo said nothing. He stood and picked his way over to the tattered remains of McCree’s clothing. The only article still intact was the red  _ serape _ , with the prosthetic buried within. He took both and made his way back.

McCree was unresponsive but cooperative, lifting the stump of his arm to allow Hanzo to reattach the prosthetic, letting Hanzo drape the  _ serape _ over his shoulders like a shawl and holding it around his throat. When Hanzo knelt in front of him again, hands on his shoulders, he looked up again. 

“I am so sorry,” he said again. 

“Do not be,” Hanzo replied. He combed a hand through McCree’s hair, smoothing his bangs out of his face. “I am fine.”

“Y’ain’t  _ fine _ . I nearly killed you, for fuck’s sake.” McCree’s voice cracked on a sob. “God. I don’t know what I woulda done if I’d . . .”

“There is no point in dwelling on if you had,” Hanzo soothed. “You did not. I know you did not want to.”

“But I  _ did _ .” McCree covered Hanzo’s hand with his own, holding it against the side of his face as though to anchor himself. “Goddamn, you have no idea. When they triggered it, and I turned, all I wanted to do was--” 

His face crumpled. His words stuttered out on another sob as tears welled in his eyes, rolling down his ragged cheeks. Hanzo drew McCree into his arms and McCree went willingly, burying his face in the shoulder of Hanzo’s shirt as he began to shake.

“I’m sorry,” McCree whimpered into the cloth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .” 

Hanzo stayed silent as they waited for the Overwatch transport to arrive, holding McCree through the aftermath of his terrifying lapse as the man cried and shook in his embrace.


End file.
